


Stories of Thedas vol.2 electric boogaloo

by Redpandalavellan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redpandalavellan/pseuds/Redpandalavellan
Summary: 31 drabbles for the 31 days in March written for the second Stories of Thedas prompt list
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Anders/Male Hawke, Female Brosca/Leliana (Dragon Age), Fenris/Male Hawke, Male Adaar/Josephine Montilyet, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus, Male Mahariel/Morrigan (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Male Surana
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Campfire

**Author's Note:**

> No I did not do Stories of Thedas vol.1, pls forgive me

The campfire crackled, spitting sparks of yellow and orange onto the grass. Andor pulled his legs back. The fire was warm against the chill of the night, but not worth charring the fabric of his robes.  
An elven man settled beside him on the ground, an arm wrapping tightly around his waist and golden hair reflecting in the dim light. Andor leaned into his embrace, quiet sighs melting into the dark.  
This was the warmth he would burn for.


	2. Shiny

He held the baby in his arms, gently, carefully, as if one wrong movement would lead him to disappear. Light skin, rounded ears, bright amber eyes. A normal human child by all accounts.  
Pudgy hands made another grab for the silver pendant around his neck, and he scrambled to move it away before he was garotted with his own necklace.  
Capricious laughter sounded from a few feet away. Creators how he'd missed that sound.  
"He'll keep trying you know. He likes anything shiny."  
Elgar looked up with a soft smile, hanging on to love and relief like a lifeline.  
"He takes after his mother."


	3. Seducer

"So? What do you think?"  
Smooth ginger hair fell loosely over his shoulders, straightened and unbound for once, standing out against his new jacket that matched his tight black trousers.  
Isabela nodded sagely.  
"Oh yes, a true Casanova. He'll never resist the seductive charm of those cuban heels."  
He grimaced and glanced back down at his outfit.  
"Too much?"  
"The man lives in Darktown, Hawke." Varric cut in with a chuckle. "A shirt without bloodstains makes you overdressed."  
He blushed.  
"I may have gotten a little over excited."


	4. Spell

"No. You're wrong."  
Words forced through gritted teeth, imposed harshly upon the world as if their bold utterance could make them true, hands white knuckled on a wooden tabletop.  
"I know what I saw. You think I would suggest this if I wasn't certain?"  
A second voice already softened by acceptance, not yet giving permission to mourn what they know they must lose. There will be time for that later, so much time.  
"We still have a choice."  
The mutterings continue, and a boy lingers behind the door, listening with a trembling lip, sparks still shifting on his fingertips.


	5. Date

"Hm?"  
Hawke lifted his head from Fenris' chest and the elf repeated his comment.  
"We've never gone on a date."  
"What are you talking about? We spend loads of time together."  
"Yes, and all that time is spent out killing people, or at your place doing.... other things."  
Hawke grinned and Fenris could feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled.  
"You want to be wined and dined, do you?"  
"Is that so much to ask? A man has to have some standards."  
Hawke turned over, hands tracing patterns across Fenris' back, lips reaching up towards his.  
"I'm sure something could be arranged."


	6. Chaos

He feels it, every second of every day. The burning, crackling, snapping of the fade. He's always felt it, in the depths of dreams, in the moment between the casting of a spell and the satisfying release. The feeling of all that energy rushing through you, making yourself a bridge upon the veil, letting it use you as you use it.  
Now it's inside him, sizzling in his palm and keeping him awake at night. What do you do when you can't turn the magic off? When the demons chase you even when you wake?  
He steps into the rotunda, as the elven man turns to face him.  
"Help me understand this."


	7. Crafting

Sitting on the ground in his quarters, surrounded by bowls and jars. Three different mortar and pestles sit in front of him, he has to keep reminding himself not to get them mixed up.  
He reaches for the ground rashvine, or is that the deathroot? Squinting at the fine powder, he can't decide, so he just adds both. What's the worst that could happen, right? That's what he always said.  
The smell leaves the ghost of a hand on his shoulder, ruffling his hair, tugging on his horns to annoy him. He smiles.  
Maybe he should add a little clay to make it orange. Sataar always liked the orange ones.


	8. Shirt

She pulls the grubby shirt quickly over her head and buckles the daggers to her waist, but she can't help the way her eyes keep darting over to the dress hung over the door.  
A gift from Beraht to Rica, pale pink flowing satin. No, not a gift, an obligation. An investment with so many strings attached it ties them both in knots.  
She knows she doesn't want the life her sister has, but still she can't help the jealousy sometimes when faced with beautiful sonnets and glittering jewels.  
But she's a woman of shirts, not silk, and she has a job to do.


	9. Wolf

The wolves came out of nowhere. The roads should be guarded, but after the blight a great many things have fallen by the wayside.  
The beast before him snaps and growls, but as he lifts his sword for the final blow, he sees an intelligence in its eyes that he recognises. Sees _her_.  
He pulls the blow up short, and it lets out a yelp, turning tail toward the trees.  
Anders turns to him with surprise.  
"You let one get away. That's not like you, commander.  
He sighs, sheathing his sword as the void opens again in his chest.  
"You'd be surprised."


	10. Hot Beverage

She moves the spoon in careful circles, determined to do this right. The old woman is watching, she knows it, and she's going to prove she can do this without her help.  
The rattling of Alistair's armour gives him away as he approaches.  
"Mmmm, soup on the menu tonight?"  
"It's... supposed to be tea."  
They both stare silently into the pot.  
"There's lumps in it."  
She offers a sheepish smile and Alistair moves it away from the fire with a laugh.  
"Maybe we should leave the cooking to Wynne."


	11. Kiss

Soft lips on his own. On his forehead, his cheek, his neck. A light brush over a freshly healed wound, a birthmark, an old scar.  
Touches that traced patterns across his freckles on spring mornings and sank hungrily into his embrace on cold nights.  
Angry kisses when alone in the middle of a fight and blissful kisses in front of friends on the day they swore themselves to each other. The exhilarating embrace after a battle, relief after a call too close, apologies without words.  
That was all he could think of as he heard the rift snap shut behind him. What he wouldn't give for one final kiss goodbye.


	12. Exploration

"Come on, Tamlen!"  
Bare feet scramble up a log, barely pausing to wait for his friend to follow.  
"We shouldn't-"  
"They won't miss us, you know Paivel will talk for hours."  
It takes only the lightest persuasion for the other boy to grin, hurrying after him.  
"Where are we going?"  
"Does it matter?" Elgar replies, picking up a branch and swinging it experimentally. "I've never been here before, there's got to be something out there worth exploring."  
"You're a bad influence." Tamlen teases, echoing the Keeper's words, and youthful laughter follows them into the trees.


	13. Kids

He feels like he's paced a hole through the floorboards. The delivery room is no place for a man, and that's fine by him, but hearing nothing but faint wails through the walls is sending him steadily insane.

Finally the kindly old woman steps into the hallway, beckoning him with a smile, and he feels his heart leap into his throat.

He's a father. They have a kid.

He steps through the door and blinks, trying to shift the double vision as he sees Josephine holding not one, but _two_ small bundles close to her chest.

They have.... kids?


End file.
